Nidrosian Moon Sabbat

Ah! How morbid the dance

Of spectres and phantoms

Carried by the wings of night

And their shadows

Macabre in the flickering light

Of the torch placed upon

The brow of our Idol

Whose image we adore

Praised be the blood

That fill our sacred kapala

Laden with lunar energies

From the horned moon above

Whose rays illuminate our path

And charge the sigils

Carved into our altar

As keys of the Black Arts

(Poetry: HBM Azazil)